Call of the Watch Crow, Part-9
Recap: Barely escaping a Skin-Jacker’s hover platform moments before it exploded, the Mercenary-Slave, Kall-Ku took shelter in a dilapidated ruin as a raging acid storm passed overhead.
The loyal War-Shuck remained at Kall-Ku’s side braving the dark ruins with its battle-brother. The only light source was a blue-green glow that emanated from the Mercenary-Slave’s wrist tattoos.
Kall-Ku recognized this place as the temple-shrine of Taranis, where he was trained in the ways of a V’Lusian Mercenary-Slave. What he believed as a boy to be an actual god was later revealed as a genetically engineered construct, designed to use fear and ignorance as emotional whips to keep the young slaves in line.
Kall-Ku’s subdermal chip received a contact from Elana’s beacon indicating she was nearby. It optimized his memories of the ruin, as it once was, so that he could find the springs of clean water to finally treat his festering wounds. He moved down an obscure stairwell into the deeper darkness.
Kall-Ku dared wonder into the lower levels of the tower, watching with a careful eye as the War-Shuck dashed into dark recesses, sometimes followed by scurrying feat or accompanied by a surprised squeal or snarl. Whatever battles it was fighting were numerous, brutal, and successful. Kall-Ku stopped suddenly, kneeling as he peered forward. Ahead, the blue-green ambience of his nano-tats met with the stronger yellow light of natural fire; it was probably a lantern or a torch encroaching from a side chamber. His optimized memories were clear on this. It was the location of the well and clean water. The throbbing in his arm and shoulder travelled down his arm as well. His fingers tingled and burned with pain as he squeezed the haft of the axe; its weight seemed nearly impossible to manage in his spoiled grip.
The War-Shuck raised its head, looking behind them into the black void that trailed them. Its ears raised, and tail freezing momentarily, ready to launch a venomous attack with its deadly sting. Its head then bowed low and it snarled with such low tonality as to be nearly inaudible.
There was no time to worry about it now. Kall-Ku desperately needed to clean his wounds, and trusted his battle-brother to protect his flanks against any danger that may be hidden in the shadows. He rose slightly onto the balls of his feet, moving tactically toward the yellow glow of the adjoining passage, each step as light and deliberate as a jungle cat.
Pressing his body against the stone wall, Kall-Ku snugged softly around the junction to the chamber. He saw what he sought for—what he longed for. Inside was a great chamber with the crumbled remains of a great well on a cracked dais. The far end of the chamber had suffered a catastrophic cave-in or attack, that left a gaping opening to the twilight world outside. In the confines of the chamber, just within the maw of the break were the salvaged remains of numerous starfighters, doubtlessly recovered from the jungle, casualties of the Consortium-Black Sun war that scorched the V’Lusian world in its strategic indifference.
The Mercenary-Slave leapt upon the dais, surprised to see a chain stretching down into the darkness, grinding heavily against the stone holding, as a substantial weight swung below. It was anchored on one end by a thick metal stake, hammered into the stone. He lowered his weapons to the ground and wrapped his hands around the thick, cold steel chain. As he pulled it slowly upward, an uneasy feeling sent an involuntary shudder through him. It was dead weight. Something substantial was swinging like a pendulum at the end. He pulled slowly and steadily; hand over hand, muscles knotted and bulged in his shoulders and back with each heave. Before the bucket reached him, a stench did. There was something dead down there.
He brought the chain fully out, a human corpse locked in crisscrossing chain, with the bulk of it wrapped around the head. Kall-Ku thought he recognized the filthy, savaged, uniform of an unfortunate woman. Wounds were clear even in the waterlogged condition of the body—torture.
[HER UNIFORM IS UNMISTAKABLE.] Came the mental update of the subdermal chip.
For a moment Kall-Ku forgot his own pain—forgot the worsening of his mortal wounds—He knew her. Even before the chip informed him of the obvious, he whispered her name, dreading that by voicing it, he would cement it in reality. Deep within he felt a tormenting tide of nausea and the agonizing knotting of his guts.
Kall-Klu clenched his eyes tight, choking out a single word, “Elana.”
“Know her do you,” screeched a high-pitched, inhuman voice from the walls, high above. A black cloak-clad figure clung effortlessly to the sheer wall, its long talons gripping the rocky surface. It glared down with lifeless eyes, like black marbles in it head. Its skin was covered in fine, blue-black feathers. “As I told your foolish friend, she would tell us where her ship is hidden, or she would die! Now, you must tell us what she would not. If not, you will share her pitiful fate.”
Kall-Ku glanced at Elana, her head and neck wrapped in chain. All of his hope was based in the faith of this strange woman he barely knew, and it drew him to cross the poisoned V’Lusian world. Everything he would ever be, was possible through her. She gifted him with purpose and a choice. Elana drew him out of a meaningless existence, trudging from one senseless battlefield to another, dealing in death and expecting a like-kind wage. She was the mother of his liberty…his savior…his goddess…and she was dead. A tear rolled down his filthy cheek. Sorrow and rage raced up his esophagus, riding a torrent of stinging bile. The weight of the power-axe became too much for his dying limb to carry. He let it drop to the dais. It all seemed so pointless now.
[SNAP OUT OF IT KALL-KU. THE SITUATION IS WORSONING. FOUR MORE OF RAVENIAN GUARD ARE APPROACHING FROM THE BREECH OUTSIDE. THEY ARE ARMED WITH POWER-STAFFS. KALL-KU, CAN YOU HEAR ME? I SENSE YOUR MENTAL FUNCTIONS ARE CLOUDY. YOU ARE SHUTTING DOWN ON THE INSIDE. KALL-KU THIS IS A VERY POOR TIME.]
Four Ravennian Guards approached from the twilight opening. Golden bracelets were tightly fit to their wrists and ankles. Blue-black robes, trimmed in silver thread draped their shoulders.
[I NEED YOU TO HEAR ME KALL-KU] The mental voice of the subdermal chip changed. [The fight for freedom cannot begin if you do not escape this world alive. I know where the ship is; I can follow the beacon…lead you there. I believe in you Kall-Ku, now I need you to believe in yourself.]
Kall-Ku’s eyes opened. The heavy lids responding to the mental voice. It was Elana’s voice, not the digitized machinations of the cold chip, but it was her voice. How was this possible. He didn’t question it further. Hope lived, at least in the chip she programmed…the avatar of a goddess whispering to him. He quickly reached down, grabbing up the Power-Axe.
He rose slowly to face the five creatures, when a monstrous roar sounded from the darkness behind him. He heard this sound before. It was the beast-god, Taranis…and it was here.
[End of part nine…look for part ten, next week]